God Touched
by night flame miko
Summary: Angel's are always portrayed as winged saviours of the innocent, doing God's will on Earth. Yet now that Harry Potter is one of them, all previous beliefs are misplaced. Combine an uncertain truth and unwavering destiny with Harry and you achieve Grace.


_**God Touched**_

_By: night flame miko_

_An:_

_I know. I know. I haven't written anything for my other stories for months and now I'm starting __another__ one?!_

_I just can't help it. I'm sorry to say I've lost motivation for the others right now, but I will definitely be adding something to them by at least September, I swear. For now this is all I have._

_In any case I bring you the next wonderful story I've thought up. I've read quite a few of those pesky, Harry is a Seraphim/Angel/Has Wings stories, but recently I have started watching a TV series called __**'Supernatural'**__ and I have to say the angels in that show have really given me some ideas. So hope you enjoy what the have been digging up because they have been __busy__._

_**Warnings**__**:**_

_**1) Yes I am aware that I will be using ideas and a few character references from Supernatural, nevertheless, this isn't a crossover so don't be expecting any meetings with Dean and Sam etc.**_

_**2) There will be **__**NO PAIRINGS**__** in this story, I may write a cross-over sequel with Supernatural in the future, but for this there will be nothing, so no angry/frustrated comments please.**_

_**3) **__**DUMBLEDORE IS ALIVE.**__** I am aware of the canon, but for this I want him alive and twinkling so there was no wearing of ring hocruxes and flying off Astronomy Towers for him. Yes, this means Snape is still working at Hogwarts and Draco Malfoy wasn't tasked or didn't succeed in killing Dumbledore.**_

_**Disclaimer:**__I'm only going to write this once, so no, until Dreams become Reality I never have and never will own Harry Potter, or Supenatural._

* * *

Harry stared up at the ceiling of his room in Private Drive, mentally counting down the minutes until he was officially seventeen. He wished, _God_ he wished that such an important day could be spent differently. Perhaps with 'family' and friends, surrounded by loved ones as they waited for such an integral moment in any wizard's life. There was a reason that in the Wizarding World their education finished at seventeen rather than eighteen. The primary one being that on every wizard and witches seventeenth birthday they reached what was commonly known as 'Maturity', or 'Magical Maturity' to those wanting to be more specific. Not much really happened on such a date, it was simply known that once a magically capable person reached that age their magic forcibly brought about the end of puberty and expanded, increasing the wizards magical core to the size they will be capable of holding for the rest of their lives.

Harry shook his head and grinned when he remembered Ron's 'Maturity'. The disgusting prat had shot up another 3 inches, as if the giant needed to be any fricken' taller. Hermione had also...filled out a bit more, and if possible her control over her magic had become even better than before, allowing some spells that had previously occupied her for at least half an hour to be achieved in the first few tries. To say Harry was excited about his own 'Maturity' was an understatement, he was hoping to all hell that he gained a few more inches because right now he was so disgustingly short that looking up at Ron was the seeming equivalent of looking up at the Eiffel Tower from its base.

Looking over at his taped together alarm clock Harry grinned when he saw that it was 5 minutes to 12. Soon, so very soon, he would be over teenage-hood and legally an adult, able to cast spells whenever he wanted to; just like his friends.

Stretching his arms above his head arching his back into the streth Harry groaned, closing his eyes in bliss only to have them snap open when he heard the unmistakeable swish of material and light tread of someone at the foot of his bed. Leaping to his feet automatically, despite being on a bed, Harry had his wand in hand and pointed at the strangers face in less time than you could blink, which considering the unarmed state of his visitor should have prompted at least such a reaction. Instead the man, wearing what seemed to be a long brown trench-coat just stared at Harry with unnerving intensity, causing Harry to attempt to swallow despite his rapidly drying mouth. The stranger didn't do anything, say anything or react in anyway and finally Harry snapped,

"What do you want? Who are you?"

The stranger tipped his head, studying Harry with a blank look, regardless of the force behind his gaze, before finally replying.

"My name is Castiel. I have come to bear witness and lead you upon your Ascendence."

The man's –Castiel's apparently- voice was just as blank as his face and Harry was starting to reach the stage of 'Stun first, ask question later, preferably with Veritaserum', when the garbled beeping of his once-mangled alarm clock reached him and Harry blinked, shifting his gaze automatically to the cracked surface.

He only managed to take in the faintly glowing numbers spelling out 12:00 before a force swamped Harry seemingly out of nowhere. Gasping, Harry dropped to his knees on the bed, instinct causing him to keep a tight hold of his wand despite the pressure increasing inside of him with startling swiftness. Gulping in air Harry let out a low moan as the pressure continued to increase to the point of pain. Curling into a kneeling foetal position Harry could hear himself whining faintly as a wind started to pick up around his body, lifting his hair and ruffling his blankets.

At that moment Harry had no idea where Castiel was, or whether the stranger was going to kill him while he was so heavily incapacitated, and to be honest he really, _really_ didn't care. The force inside him was monumental and had altered from pouring into him like water into a balloon, stretching him past his limits; to more resemble fire as it licked its way along his veins, burning him from the inside out. Yet despite all this, what truly worried Harry was despite the pain seemingly radiating from his whole being, the place that hurt the most was his forehead, the scar that adorned it burning far hotter than the rest of him; to the point he half believed he could smell sizzling flesh.

Starting to shake with the force of everything running through him Harry could feel sweat gathering on his forehead and running down the side of his face, gathering in his scrunched up eyes like tears. The keening he had been emitting was rising in pitch; reaching a decibel Harry wasn't aware a human was capable of reaching. And to make matters worse, the fire in his veins was now centring on his upper back, the flames sharpening into knives that cut into his skin from the inside; slicing through him as bones expanded and ligaments snapped. He could feel his whole body reshaping itself; his skin stretching and muscles tearing, bones elongating, snapping and rejoining. He could hardly breathe for the pain and thinking was so far beyond him now that coherency seemed the faint whisper of a dream, a remembrance of a time when his mind wasn't melting within him.

Finally a heavy weight settled on his back, his shoulder-blades lengthening and snapping painfully, before joining with whatever it was and taking some of the weight. The fire cooled down to something bearable before vanishing entirely, leaving him shaking so badly he could feel the bed rattle. The screams Harry hadn't realised he had been muffling into the bed came to a stop, his throat sore and itchy whilst the rest of him ached and pulsed in time with his slowing heartbeat. Panting into the bed Harry shifted slightly, wincing as a range of muscles he hardly knew existed decided it was high time to make their presence known. Fighting to ignore his aching muscles Harry sat up, feeling the panic ebb out of him like sand through a sieve.

The first thing (other than the pain) he noticed was that everything was extremely fuzzy, considering his short-sightedness this shouldn't have been such a surprise, except he was currently _wearing_ his glasses. Unclenching his cramped fingers from around his wand, it dropped to the bed softly before he carefully took his glasses off his nose. Harry couldn't help grinning like a loon as everything came into focus. He didn't need glasses anymore! But there was something wrong; the exultation Harry experienced at the realisation had disappeared with unnatural swiftness, dropping out of him and into nothingness. Frowning, Harry noticed the worry he should have been feeling (and the myriad of other emotions) followed a similar path, disappearing even faster than the one before. Wanting to worry but being unable to experience it Harry shrugged it off, deciding to return to it after he was aware of what else had happened to him. As far as he knew Ron and Hermione hadn't gone through any pain, they had simply experienced a rush of energy and then shot up or...outwards, as the case was with Hermione. It was embarrassing, yes, but not painful. Echoes of worry resonated through Harry but didn't last long; ignoring it for the moment, Harry instead carefully manoeuvred himself off the bed and onto his feet

It was only at this point that he noticed Castiel watching him with that same blank intensity as before. Cocking his head at the other man Harry considered him for a moment before deeming him less important than whatever it was that was dragging his shoulders back. Whatever it was didn't hurt per-se; it was simply like wearing a fairly heavy back-pack. A back-pack that Harry was pretty certain he hadn't started out his 'Maturity' wearing. It took him a few steps to get used to his new height (Yes!), and weight, but he was soon across the room and peering into the dull full-length mirror on the inside of his wardrobe door.

Taking one look at himself, and the _things_ barely visible over the tops of his shoulders Harry promptly threw himself backwards with a cry of shock, landing on his ass and staring at himself in the mirror.

It seemed whatever magic had occurred had annihilated his clothes (thank Merlin he wasn't at school when _that_ particular disaster occurred), leaving him starker's and staring at his new body. Determinedly ignoring the thing(s) that had startled him Harry examined the rest of his body.

He had definitely grown, that was for sure. He must nearly be the height Ron had been before his own 'Maturity'. And his _hair_, it was still short and messy but the tips of his hair seemed to have turned _white_; and where his hair always resembled a bird's nest, it seemed _different_ somehow, not quite so messy but more styled. His eyes hadn't changed that much, but seeing them without glasses made them different somehow, brighter and narrower than the round frame had made them appear. Of course he was listing all this stuff to distract himself from the real problem.

Said problem was hanging behind him and had spread out some on the floor. Said problem, now that the panic and fear Harry had first experienced had washed away, appeared to be _wings_. The feathers he could see over the top of his shoulders were as black as his hair, gleaming in that way feathers were prone to; whilst the feathers at the ends of his...wings, the ones spread on the floor were white, also like his hair. The formation reminded Harry a bit of the magpie's he had seen flying around Private Drive occasionally. Taking a deep, calming breath despite his lack of need for one Harry sat further up and twisted, looking at where the wings apparently connected with his back. Staring at where his enlarged shoulder blades extended out from his upper back to change into the wing bones, Harry could understand why it had hurt so much for them to form. _Why_ they had formed was another matter entirely, one he suspected had something to do with the stranger in his room currently watching him with vague interest.

Standing Harry stumbled a bit as the wings adjusted automatically to the movement, his shoulder muscles contracting in a way they never had had to before to compensate for the shift. Walking to his trunk Harry grabbed a pair of slacks and pulled them on, feeling a detached embarrassment that Castiel had seen him naked, but even that emotion soon drifted away despite how much he clutched at it, trying to hold the feeling close with insubstantial fingers. Turning on Castiel Harry instead tried to summon anger, or some form of outrage at the sure knowledge that this man had something to do with his Maturity going so wrong, but it seems he had as much trouble with bringing up emotion as he had with holding onto it. Eventually giving up with a sigh, yet not feeling the emotion that usually accompanied such an action, Harry gestured to himself.

"So what's going on then? Why am I suddenly sporting wings, 'cause I'm fairly certain most Magical Maturities do not involve gaining extra limbs."

Harry left out the lack of emotion bit for now, figuring that it was easier to jump one hurdle at a time.

Castiel examined him for a few seconds, seemingly intrigued by something, before nodding and standing up.

"It seems that Father has deemed fit for you to join us."

He didn't expand, seemingly happy to let Harry make of that what he will, but of course even lacking the feeling of curiosity, Harry was still Harry and after the brief exasperation floated away, he still wanted to know exactly what the fuck was going on.

"What does that mean?! Who is 'Father'? Why do I have wings? Who (or what) are you? What the hell is going on?!"

Welcoming the brief wash of anger that accompanied the yelling, Harry clutched at it only to have it drain away almost as quickly as it had come, leaving him empty and with the understanding that he _should_ be angry and confused, yet for some reason he _wasn't_.

Castiel stepped forward and when Harry stepped back he simply moved until Harry was practically in a corner and he was right in front of him. Reaching out he brushed aside strands of hair and peered at Harry's forehead with an inscrutable expression before tapping the scar and looking into Harry's eyes.

"This is what has made you what you are. You always believed that it was your mother's sacrifice that saved you that night, and whilst in essence that belief is true, it was not your mother's sacrifice but rather her faith that saved you."

At Harry's brief disbelieving look Castiel nodded and stepped back,

"Oh yes. You see, your mother is what is described as 'muggleborn', yes? It was because of this that you were saved, as your mother was brought up in a Christian household, holding true to Christian values and believing in the Christian God. Even once she became a witch she still held to the basic principles of there being a Higher Being, those principles shaped by Christianity as it was the only faith she knew." Castiel seemed to catch Harry's surprised intake of air as he concluded with, "Ah, I can see you are beginning to understand."

Harry moved around to sit on the edge of his bed, twitching slightly when his wings seemingly automatically moved out of the way. "So...what, you're some kind of...angel?"

Castiel nodded, expression not changing an iota as he proceeded to explain.

"I am, as are you. No, let me continue. You are what we angels describe as 'God Touched'. You see, when you died from the Avada Kedavra curse, our Father caught your soul as it was thrust from your body and placed it back within you, redirecting the Killing Curse's power back to the one who cast it. Unfortunately a human body cannot withstand the sight or sound of an _Angel_; it would completely shut down at the touch of our _Father_. So Father had to change what you were, recreate you so that you may survive his touch to live another night. That is why you have that scar. Did it never occur to you to wonder why a Curse that was known for killing without leaving a mark, left one on you? The lightning bolt is a common symbol of the Deities, and often represents Gods in one form or another."

Blinking Harry opened his mouth, didn't know where to begin and closed it again, before running a hand through his hair and deciding on a question. "Look, not saying I believe you, but why would God want _me_ of all people to survive? I'm nothing special; I don't see why he couldn't have saved someone else from the Killing Curse, like my mother...or something..."

Castiel tipped his head to the side, seemingly regarding him again before answering,

"Ah, but you _are_ important. There is a prophecy stating that you are the only one who may kill Lord Voldemort, I can see you know which one."

Harry nodded but was still confused,

"But surely a prophecy wouldn't matter to a being like _God_."

Now the angel smiled slightly,

"Ah, but you see, Prophecy is weighed by both Light and Dark. It could not be changed without the consent of both."

Blinking Harry decided that whilst that was interesting and all, it wouldn't change what had clearly already happened and instead he wanted to know about what was going on _now_.

"Okay. That's all well and good, but that still doesn't really explain the wings."

Castiel nodded once again whilst leaning back against a wall,

"Whilst our Father cannot touch a human without damaging them, He can speak to and touch His Angels, for we are His children. He merely made you into one of His children, considering humans are made in His and our image, it was not that large of a change. What is yet to be seen is what type of angel He made you into, brother."

Blinking again at the familial association Harry shrugged it off in favour of knowledge, "There's more than one type of angel?"

Castiel tipped his head forward, "Yes. There are many ranks of angels. They are normally told apart by either their clothes or wings. Considering you have not truly joined our ranks yet, the clothes are not an option, but your wings...they confuse me. I have never seen white-tipped black wings before."

Standing from where he had been leaning the angel stepped towards Harry but came no further, "Would you please extend your wings, often the shape or markings may define what type, and in essence what rank, you are."

Harry shrugged,

"Sure, but I have no clue how to 'extend my wings'."

He smirked slightly only to rear back in shock as behind Castiel two beautiful white wings appeared, extending outwards from his back to touch the corners of the room behind him. His expression didn't change but Harry still got the impression he was being smirked at.

"The majority of their movement is instinct. Simply feel the muscles in your shoulders and much as you would to extend you arms outwards, instead do so with the muscles controlling you wings. The rest will come naturally."

Considering that, Harry tilted his head, trying to feel the muscles in his shoulders and get them to move. Nothing happened for a few minutes until Harry tried it with his arms first, spreading them wide and feeling the shift in muscles the movement brought, before translating how he figured it should feel and move to the appendages behind him. This time his wings definitely rustled, shifting slightly on his back. Grinning at the success he tried it again, except this time he tried to push them outwards, wincing when they moved a little too fast and a slight pain went up one from where it slapped the wall.

Turning to grin at Castiel he stopped and blinked when he saw the other mans wide eyes. Castiel stepped forward, seemingly entranced by what he was seeing. Twisting to look over one shoulder Harry blinked again and then swore at the sight of not _two_ wings, like normal fricken' angels (he assumed), but instead _six_ wings, slightly smaller than Castiel's were and each pair slightly behind the one before it so they could extend and fold in comfortably.

"What the hell man?! Is my life never easy?!"

The rush of anger and exasperation was gone almost as soon as it was formed, prompting another brief rush of anger.

Fortunately his outburst seemed to snap Castiel out of it, though he still stepped up beside where Harry was sitting on the bed and reached out to run his fingers lightly down one wing. Harry shivered at the feeling; it was like being touched in a place you hadn't realised was sensitive before. Castiel glanced his way but continued to run a hand lightly over the black feathers at the top of his one wing, almost as if unable to help himself.

"Brother, I know exactly what race you are. You are of the Seraphim, one of the Highest Order. It is very rare to even glimpse one of the Seraphim Order, let alone speak with one..."

Castiel seemed to have temporarily forgotten that Harry was fairly knew to the whole being an angel thing, and that he was fairly certain he didn't count as a real Seraphim anyway.

"Our Father must certainly favour you, the Seraphim are of the Highest Order due to their ability to speak with our Father whenever they so wish. They merely have to open the Way and if he wills it, he will speak. It is the highest honour to speak with our Father, he has been away from us for many long years..."

Castiel continued to lightly stroke Harry's wings, and almost without thinking about it Harry pulled them in from where they had been extended. Castiel blinked before stepping back lightly, blank expression back in place. Harry gestured at himself once more, suddenly much more aware that he was sitting on a bed with only slacks on being told that he was an Angel of the Highest Order, an apparently rare thing.

This could only happen to him.

"So...what now?" Harry asked, trying to get a read on what Castiel was thinking behind those intense eyes, but there was nothing beyond the focus to see.

"Now? I believe now you should get some rest, High Brother. There is much we will have to discuss and achieve tomorrow."

Slightly taken aback Harry opened his mouth, prepared to argue, only to have a yawn beat the words out of his throat. Faintly sheepish Harry rubbed the back of his head before shuffling back on his bed and twisting onto his stomache to try to get some sleep. Looking at his damaged alarm clock he wasn't surprised to note it was almost one in the morning. So much had happened in under an hour, it was scary to think just how drastically your life can change in such a short space of time.

Reaching down Harry picked up his wand from where it lay beside his stomach and stowed it under his pillow, feeling the new weight of his wings on his back. Feeling lethargy sink into his muscles he started to drift off, vaguely remembering that somehow Castiel had hidden his wings or something before he extended them. That could be useful and Harry reminded himself to ask about it the next day before drifting off into an exhausted sleep.

Castiel watched all this in silence, well aware how tired the young Seraphim should be, considering all he had gone through in so short a time. Castiel hadn't been aware he was to tutor a Seraph. The trust and honour that placed in him was huge and for a brief moment he was weighed down by it before the usual apathy washed away the emotions. It was a great honour, doubly so as a new angel hadn't joined the ranks for many millennia, and to be the one requested to Initiate the new young one after his Ascendance to Grace spoke much of the other Angel's belief in his abilities.

Castiel knew that he could not, would not fail them. And looking upon young Harry Potter, the first Seraphim to Ascend since their Father began, he knew that it was not only his Angelic superiors he refused to fail.

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_An:_

_There we go, ma peeps. This is the first chapter. Note please, that this story is not going to be very long, 7-10 chapters at the most. Also please read the An at the top of this chapter, it's fairly important. At least the bold bits :P_

_Thanks again and any reviews would be much appreciated._

_Till later, my friends,_

_-night flame miko_

_p.s. please review, I would love to see how people take this story. Considering I'm hoping to do a bit of a more in-depth Harry-with-wings story._


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